I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up

You know how people tend to exaggerate certain circumstances for the sake of humor, never dreaming that the literal situation could actually take place? Can you tell that I'm about to reveal that some such thing has, in fact, happened to me recently? Do you continue to be surprised that I am so willing to reveal humilating stories about myself for the sake of humor?

Typical exaggerated comment about the ongoing North Texas drought:
"The cracks in our yard are so wide and so deep, you could fall right in!"

Ahem.

Yes. Last night, as Alex and I left my in-laws' house, we stepped into their yard. My right foot stepped down about four inches into a crack before realizing there wasn't any ground to hold my weight. I quickly stepped forward to avoid the void.

And stepped right into a bigger, deeper crack. So far, in fact, that I immediately sank down to the point of sitting on the ground, my right leg over half encased in the crack--rather snugly, I might add.

Although I'd had a good day up until that point, I began to mutter some words of frustration and confoundment that I have rarely uttered, which I think only increased the incredulous laughter of Alex, who was attempting to pull me from my Dorf-like position. He managed to pull me up, but my good work shoe remained firmly wedged in the jaws of North Texas clay, which has a strength and tenacity that would shame a mastiff.

After fumbling around awhile with my entire arm down in the crack pulling at the shoe, I finally dislodged it, so that we could go home and watch Eureka, and I could forget my abyss-mal (oh, ouch) woes.